


Unto the Void

by NightFell



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Dishonored 1, Dishonored 2, F/M, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Dishonored (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-08-29 22:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16752409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightFell/pseuds/NightFell
Summary: A collection of Dishonored drabbles and writings. The moments in between, before, and after.Chapter 1: Corvo Attano "Meeting" | Chapter 2: Corvo Attano "Impressed" | Chapter 3: Daud “The Clocktower”





	1. Corvo Attano "Meeting"

It seemed like the entire population of Serkonos had collectively set aside their day’s labor for the Blade Verbena. There were few occasions for revelry and the crowds only swelled in number as the tournament neared its end; word quickly traveling through the streets of Karnaca that a sixteen-year-old boy actually stood a chance of winning the entire thing that year, besting some of the greatest swordsmen from all across the Empire of the Isles.

The Blade Verbena welcomed all, regardless of social standing, birth right, or history, though most competed in the tournament for the same reason- public esteem, a lifetime of bragging rights, and the possible placement as a junior officer in the revered Grand Serkonan Guard.

Though none of that mattered to the boy from Karnaca.

The boy stabbed, feinted, parried, spun, and cut- fighting his way through round after round. The rules were simple enough and each opponent inevitably yielded to his blade as spectators yelled their approval, thunderous and reverberating, from the stone walls of the tournament courtyard.

Things were going well, very well in fact, until the boy slipped on the slick, storm-wet flagstones, throwing him off balance for the merest of moments. His opponent instantly sprang forward, darting in and behind. The boy managed to twist away with a quick parry but not before the blade connected, deep enough that blood immediately began to run down his side and back.

The crowd hissed in empathy but the advantage was short-lived. The larger man’s momentum forward had brought him in close, just close enough. The boy swung up with a quick pommel strike that sent his opponent reeling back in a daze. By the time the other man recovered, there was a blade at his neck and the fight was over.

***

"Void take me," the boy cursed, muttering low under his breath as the cloth bandage slipped out of his grasp yet again. He was ready to consider the effort a lost cause when suddenly a girl’s voice came from behind.

"I can help."

The boy started to turn from his seated position but the motion caused the hastily applied bandage to slip further. Unable to fully look behind, he nodded. He held still as the girl gathered the two ends of the cloth and deftly tied them together. Her hands were warm against his skin.

The boy stood, stretching carefully and turned around to see a young, well-dressed girl who met his gaze with bright, fearless eyes.

"What is your name?" she asked.

The question was delivered with the ease and audacity of someone born of high social status. It was a tone that the boy would have typically scoffed or dismissed entirely. Respect was only ever given to the upper class in mock deference. But there was something about her that commanded...no, it requested sincerity.

"Corvo. Corvo Attano," the boy heard himself say.

"Good luck, Corvo. I hope you win." Her voice was a melody and unmistakable.

The roar of the crowd outside suddenly grew louder, signaling the start of the final duel. The girl watched as Corvo took up his weapon and strode into the courtyard.

The Blade Verbena was awaiting its champion.


	2. Corvo Attano "Impressed"

Corvo gripped his sword, feeling the weight heavy and balanced in his hand as the three men surrounded him for another attack. It was an unfair fight but that mattered little to him. It was the first time in weeks that resembled some form of normalcy in his life.

Since his arrival in Gristol, he had felt out of place and out of step. The change in scenery from exotic to temperate was welcome at first but naive wanderlust was soon replaced by a pervasive sense of displacement that grew with each day in the capital city. The feeling was only made worse upon receiving the missive regarding his mother’s death back home in Karnaca. The document was still crumpled deep inside his coat pocket when the City Watch guards in the practice yard casually commented, within earshot, the absurdity of the capital’s elite guard rubbing elbows with low-life refuse. What was a Serkonan rat even doing at Dunwall Tower in the first place?

He glanced out of the corner of his eye. Among the gathering onlookers stood the Royal Spymaster, wordless and silent to the impromptu duel. Corvo's interaction with the man was limited thus far to exchanging basic formalities but even he knew the Spymaster had some authority over the City Watch guards. 

The three men continued to advance unhindered.  _ How unfortunate. _ Corvo gave mental shrug of resignation and flicked his wrist, spinning the blade parallel to his forearm in a reverse grip hold. The guards hesitated, glancing at each other in confusion.   
  
Before they could fully recover, Corvo moved. Lunging forward, he snapped his sword up and across in a vicious upswing that the first man barely managed to parry before tripping over his own feet and tumbling backward to the ground. The second man was caught close and received a swift kick in the chest before he could bring up his weapon. The last guard rushed forward with a quick combination that Corvo countered with a flash of ringing steel. Another flip of the blade left the man suddenly disarmed, his sword clattering to the ground.   
  
"That was impressive."   
  
Corvo sheathed his weapon and looked up to see a young, dark-haired girl watching him closely. There was something strangely familiar about her but he didn’t have long to dwell as the Royal Spymaster walked forward from among the gathered crowd. He sank into a bow, “Lady Jessamine.”   
  
The girl was oblivious to the man’s greeting, her gaze still on Corvo. The Spymaster stood and cleared his throat. "Ah, my apologies...I was not certain if formal introductions had been made. Her Ladyship Jessamine Kaldwin I, daughter of Emperor Euhorn and Empress Beatrix. This is Corvo Attano of the Grand Serkonan Guard. He is here as a gift from the Duke of Serkonos."   
  
"Your Ladyship." Corvo bowed low, placing his left hand across his chest and extending his right arm.   
  
"Corvo Attano." The voice was an unmistakable melody.   
  
His breath caught.   
  
It was her. The proud, fearless girl from two years ago. Her voice had matured in the time since but the bold, clear brightness was still there. Corvo straightened slowly, trying to maintain his composure. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to openly stare.   
  
Jessamine turned to look at the guards still getting to their feet. "Spymaster, are these men your candidates for Royal Protector?"   
  
The man’s expression hardened into brittle lines. "They _were_ , yes."   
  
Jessamine glanced back again at Corvo. Though her face remained carefully impassive, her gaze held a different emotion entirely.


	3. Daud “The Clocktower”

The Clocktower sounded the last of the chimes of midnight. The low measured tones echoed into the moonlit sky streaked with clouds, singing long and reverberating to the nearby rooftops where Daud and his Whalers waited in the shadows.

Like many others, Daud had been impressed by the Clocktower when he first arrived in Dunwall as a youth. It was an unmissable feature in the skyline, rising tall and proud above the city and the estate district below. During the day, it was a rousing testament and symbol to the industriousness of the people. At night, it loomed high and ominous, casting long arcing shadows as its stone and metal spires pierced the sky.

The structure always held an inherent sense of mystery about it as well. From time to time over the years, Daud couldn’t help but wonder what feats of science and technology had been required to construct it to reach such unassailable heights. Despite his natural ability and prowess at scaling any building regardless of height, the Clocktower had loomed, always just out of reach- something beyond his tangible senses and physical abilities.

Then one night with the Mark freshly burned on his hand, Daud had traversed to its utmost height. The view at the top was everything he had imagined it would be. Marveling at the city sprawled below, he took in greedy lungfuls of crisp air, barely feeling the cold and biting wind as the unworldly power sang and burned within his clenched fist, ready to do his bidding.

Unfortunately, the breathtaking view had also come at a cost. In Daud's eyes, the Clocktower's majesty and mystery had forever faded into the banal and commonplace. However never to be ignored, it soon took on a new meaning when he realized that the location was a wildly popular spot for clandestine meetings. Daud quickly found plenty of work, as well as willing recruits for his fledgling organization, in the shadow of its spires in those early days. The Clocktower had become a symbol of opportunity...when provided with the right amount of coin of course. 

As the tower's final chime faded into the night, a man dressed in noble finery crossed beneath view without a single furtive glance into the shadows. The Whalers’ pantomime banter instantly stilled into an awful, deadly silence as they awaited. Daud gave the signal.

It was time to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The results of my first ever drabble sprint (: Big thanks to @Black from the Dishonored Discord for supplying the opening-line for a prompt!


End file.
